


The Accurate and True Account of Anathema Device Deciding to Fight God

by regenderate



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 04:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regenderate/pseuds/regenderate
Summary: In which Anathema decides that this apocalypse is utterly ridiculous and she'd like to take it up with the Almighty Herself.





	The Accurate and True Account of Anathema Device Deciding to Fight God

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I have not read the book. but I did take great enjoyment in the TV show.

The world is filled with people who would, given the chance, fight God.

Unfortunately, God does not have the time to listen to most of these people, much less fight them.

Anathema Device is different.

For one thing, she has Agnes Nutter’s prophecy book, and has spent her entire life up to this point in training to fill out one of God’s greatest and least effable plans.

For another thing, God rather likes her.

 

When Anathema was a child, she asked her mother why the prophecies were true.

“They just are,” her mother said. “The same way you always fall back to the ground, no matter how high you jump.”

“But who decided?” Anathema asked. “Did Agnes Nutter?”

“No,” her mother replied. “God decided.”

“God must not be very smart, then,” Anathema said, eyeing prophecy #2,349 (“In the yeare two thousande and eighteen, children will be dancing to the night of fort”).

“Don’t say that where she can hear,” her mother said, and Anathema never brought it up again.

 

But now there’s under an hour to the end of the world, and Anathema is remembering that day. 

There is a part of her that stands by her words.

After all, the fate of the Earth has been left to children, brilliant and sweet children, but children all the same, and no kind and loving God would saddle children with this level of responsibility for the sake of a petty battle between Good and Evil.

And so, as alarms go off around her, Anathema decides: prophecies be damned. 

“Fuck this,” she says, and Newt looks up.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m taking this up with God.”

 

She finds Adam, the sweet kid who’s also the Antichrist. It seems like a good first step. 

“Adam,” she says once she finds him on a dreary patch of pavement, ignoring his friends gathered around. “Excuse me. Sorry. Do you have any idea how I could contact God?”

“How would I know?” Adam asks, and crosses his arms. His dog barks. Anathema falters.

“I just thought you might,” she says.

“Actually, you could try praying,” one of his friends says. Anathema tries to remember his name— Wesley or something like that. “If a God does exist, They might be able to hear you.”

It’s not a bad idea, really.

“Thank you,” Anathema says. “I’ll be going now.”

 

She stands in the middle of the air base, in the middle of the most open patch of grass she can find. It feels like the sort of place for prayer. Or maybe it’s just that it’ll be easier for God to see her if there aren’t any roofs or trees or anything in the way.

Assuming God is above, of course, but she can’t imagine any almighty deity wanting to live underground in the dark.

She’s never really been the praying sort. Having thousands of prophecies memorized means that she’s never had much use for hope or faith or anything else founded in uncertainty. She doesn’t really know how to begin.

She looks up.

“Get down here and face me!” she yells. 

Nothing happens.

“Amen!” she adds.

There’s a sort of rumble around her. At first she thinks it’s thunder, but the storm that almost tore her cottage apart earlier has almost entirely subsided. After a moment, she realizes it’s laughter, a great, cosmic laughter that is felt rather than heard. Another moment, and she is no longer on Earth.

 

She looks around. She has, in the space of a split second, been transported to what looks like it might be Heaven— her feet are on clouds, blue skies abound above her, and there are great gold gates just in front of her.

They’re open. Unguarded.

Anathema only hesitates a moment before walking through. 

Given the almost cartoonish version of Heaven she’s in, with the puffy cotton-ball clouds and gilded gates, she’s expecting to see a giant throne and an old man, larger than life, with a trailing beard and white robes.

She’s right about the white robes.

Not so much the giant throne.

God, or a figure Anathema can only assume is God, is sprawled across an armchair, reading a book. The overall effect is alarmingly human, despite the white robes. As Anathema approaches, God glances up.

“Oh, hello.” God’s voice seems to reverberate in Anathema’s mind.

“You’re a woman,” Anathema blurts out. It’s not how she planned to open, but to be fair, she was caught off guard.

“I’m the Almighty,” God says, sounding almost offended. “Do not assume I have a gender.”

“Everyone on Earth assumes You’re a man,” Anathema says.

God’s laughter shakes the clouds. 

“One of My favorite jokes,” She says. “But this isn’t why you came.”

“No, it is not,” Anathema says. “I came to tell You that this apocalypse thing is ridiculous, and it needs to stop.”

“I’m not the one who started it,” God says, her voice velvety and smooth.

“You sound like a child,” Anathema replies. “I’d know, given that I’ve met some lovely  children recently who are being forced to do Your job while You sit up here and act like one of them.” 

“This is a battle between Heaven and Hell,” God says. “Good and Evil. I’m only a spectator.”

“So the Earth is going to be destroyed for your battle?” Anathema asks. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“There’s no law saying I have to be fair,” God says.

“Then _make one_ ,” Anathema retorts. 

God laughs again. 

“You always have been one of My favorites,” She says. “Raised to follow My prophecies, but always wanting to argue. Very human of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m human,” Anathema says. “And I’d like to know why You’re letting this happen. Your angels are involved, aren’t they?”

“They’re hardly _My_ angels, these days,” God says. “Anyway, this is all a test.”

Anathema falters. She doesn’t feel particularly tested yet— only angry. Although possibly actively seeking a fight with God is a symptom of being tested. There’s only one way to find out.

“For whom?” she asks.

“The angels, of course,” God says. “I haven’t spoken to them in years. My fault, to be fair. But I fear some of them have strayed.”

“Strayed?” Anathema asks.

“Away from seeking My will and towards pettier concerns.”

“Pettier concerns,” Anathema repeats. “Like the apocalypse.”

“You’re getting it,” God says. 

“Surely there’s a better way to do this,” Anathema says.

“Don’t worry,” God says. “I have reason to believe the Earth will come to no harm. An insurance policy, if you will. But it’s very complicated, and it relies, in part, on you being in your place.”

“People are dying,” Anathema persists. 

“Trust in Me,” God says.

“If the world ends,” Anathema says, “I’m going to rip You a new one.”

“If the world ends,” God says, “I’ll be sure to expect you.”

 

Anathema blinks, and then she’s back in the room with all the computers and flashing light and Newt. It doesn’t look like much time has passed, if any, which is good, if she’s meant to be stopping an apocalypse. 

“Did you manage it?” Newt asks.

“What?”

“Taking it up with God,” Newt clarifies.

“Oh,” Anathema says. “Sort of.” She looks at the bank of the computers. Pulls out a few prophecy cards. “Suppose we’d better avert this apocalypse.”

 

The world doesn’t end.

 

The world doesn’t end, and Anathema has a boyfriend now, which isn’t what she expected. But she had sex with him, and saved the world with him, and surely that means something.

But the next morning, she leaves Newt alone in her cottage and rides her bike to the air force base. Unfortunately, she has forgotten that the world has basically gone back to normal, including the guards pointing guns at any un-uniformed stranger biking up.

“Sorry,” she calls, and immediately turns her bike around. She goes to an open field instead, leaves her bike lying at the edge, and walks into the middle.

“Fine,” she says to the sky. “You know what You’re doing.” She pauses, then adds, “Amen.”

She blinks, and when she opens her eyes she’s back in front of God, who has gotten considerably further in her book. 

“Hello again, Anathema,” God says. “I take it you are not here to rip Me a new one?”

“I just wanted to say—” Anathema pauses. What _does_ she want to say? “How did the test turn out?”

“Mixed results,” God says. “I will be keeping a closer eye on My angels.”

“What happened to the horsemen?” Anathema asks.

“They have gone back to their lives,” God says. “Everything, for the most part, is continuing as normal.”

“I should go back, too, then,” Anathema says. “Agnes’s book is over. I can have a life now.”

“May I make a suggestion?” God asks. “One thing to do in your new life?”

“If you like,” Anathema says.

“Dump him,” God says.

Anathema blinks in surprise.

“Sorry, what?” she asks, but she’s already back in the field.

 

Later that day, a second prophecy book is delivered.

Anathema burns it with Newt, trying not to think about what God said. She is going to have a new life, after all. It’s her choice what to do with it.

 

A week later, she decides that her choice aligns with God’s advice. She really rushed into that whole relationship too fast, after all, and she’s realizing now that her attraction was based more on heat-of-the-moment-the-world-is-ending adrenaline than an actual attachment. 

Besides, Newt snores.

He takes it well enough. Goes back home. Promises not to go back to his old witch-hunting ways. 

And Anathema is alone.

She goes back to the field.

“You were right,” she says. “ _Again_.” 

When there’s no response, she sighs.

“Really?” she asks. “Going to make me say it? _Amen_.”

 

She is not transported.

Instead, God’s voice echoes in her head. 

“You’re welcome.”

The grass ripples in the wind.

A strange warmth spreading in her chest, Anathema rides her bike home.

**Author's Note:**

> this is maybe one of the more self-indulgent things I've written. anyway why was the most compelling and only female lead forced into a rushed and unrealistic heterosexual relationship thanks for coming to my ted talk. also she's a lesbian


End file.
